The Right Thing
by mustlovecat
Summary: DL One Shot  Missing Scene during 3.23 ...Comes Around


**A/N **Another of my "missing scenes" so to speak. After watching "… Comes Around" last night (I have it on tape at home and have watched it more times than I wish to admit, yet still had to watch it live here at my parents' when CBS re-ran it), I was inspired to add on to one of my favourite all-time scenes. I have always felt there are some D/L things missing between "A Daze of Wine and Roaches" and "Snow Day" and here is just one of my efforts to fill in the blanks LOL. The first few lines are actually ripped from the episode to keep things canon (giving credit where credit is due) and to provide a smooth lead-in.

This falls, chronologically, between my fics "Home" and "Blessed Assurance".

**Disclaimer **No, I don't own anything and it is with reverence and awe that I am even daring to borrow these wonderful characters from the owners of CSI:NY.

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"Why do we do what we do, huh?" Danny asked, leaning against the pool table in the back of Sullivan's, the after-work crowd thick and loud throughout the bar.

"What do you mean?" Don replied with furrowed brow, setting down his Guinness.

"Why do we wake up in the morning? Three o'clock. Stand at a crime scene. In the freezing cold. Living paycheque to paycheque. For what? To protect and serve. Serve who? The public? Sometimes it seems like they hate us. And then, here we got the brass, ready to throw us to the lions."

"We do it 'cause we're good at it," Flack answered. He smirked then. "And maybe we'd be lousy at anything else." He picked his own queue back up, leaning over the table and lining up a shot. "I don't know. Maybe we do it for the one or two times somebody actually thanks us for finding their son's murderer."

Messer nodded, taking a sip of his scotch.

Don made another shot, then set his cue down on the edge of the table. "Is it just me, or is the world spinning out of control?"

"Feels like it sometimes, huh? Mac's in the bureaucratic line of fire, John McEnroe's a suspect in a murder case…" Danny shook his head a little incredulously.

They finished their game, then glancing at his watch, Don decided to head out. Danny offered to pick up the tab, so he said goodnight and watched Flack leave, then he walked over to the bar with his wallet to settle up.

Outside on the sidewalk, Don noticed Lindsay crossing the street towards the bar and waited, nodding as she stepped up onto the walk in front of him. "Hey, Linds. You just gettin' out?"

"Yeah. Is Danny here?" she asked.

"Still inside. Any breaks on the McEnroe thing yet?"

"No. And it's pissing me off. Listen, I heard about everything that happened at the hearing today. You all right?"

Touched by her concern, he smiled. "Yeah, I'm fine. Gerrard and Sinclair are just blowin' a hell of a lot of smoke. Will Mac get out of this unscathed? Don't know. The department advocate seems to think she's got somethin' to prove, an example to make. Let's just pray it's not Mac who ends up making it."

She looked at him sympathetically. "Listen, Don, you did the right thing handing over your book. I know you're the one stuck at the house, who had their loyalty questioned, but you can't be expected to cover for a dirty cop just 'cause he's one of your guys. Truby brought all of this on himself. Not you. Not Mac. And when all is said and done, IAB's going to have to realize that."

"You know what I love about you, Linds? You've been in this city for two years, you've seen stuff none of us can even begin to comprehend, and you still believe that the good guys always win."

Lindsay smiled at him. "Don't you? Isn't that why you're still doing this?"

He didn't say anything to that, only sighed. "Night, Linds. I'll see ya tomorrow." With that, he walked off towards the precinct.

Having paid his cheque, Danny turned and went to head out, but stopped in his tracks when the door opened to the bar and Lindsay walked in, Almost instantly, their eyes met and she offered him a small smile as she walked over. He could not help the smile that crossed his own lips. "You slummin', Montana?"

"When you didn't come back, I had an idea that maybe you'd ended up over here. I just saw Don outside," she explained.

He nodded slowly. "You've been workin' all this time?"

"Yeah. Stella and Sheldon are still there, but they sent me home. I guess there's no point in all of us banging our heads against the wall. Do you want to sit for a minute, maybe talk?"

The last thing he wanted was to talk more about the Mac situation and his testimony at the hearing, but he was not stupid enough to pass up an opportunity to hang out with Lindsay outside the Lab. So he nodded towards a recently vacated booth and they headed over and sat down across from one another. "Any progress with McEnroe?"

She shook her head. "No. And it doesn't make any sense. We found directional blood drops that match the reference sample that he gave us. But the fingerprints on the quarters in the condom machine don't. Plus, he has an alibi. He's a kick-ass tennis player, but that doesn't mean he can be two places at once." Her tone betrayed her frustration and he fought back the urge to chuckle at the determined expression that crossed her face. He knew it bothered her as much as it did him, having all of the pieces of the puzzle in front of you but not being able to put them together in a way that made sense.

"So let's talk this out."

She shook her head again as if willing the dissatisfaction to leave her for the night, and looked across at him compassionately. "No, you know what? I just want to leave this for tonight. I, uh – I heard about what happened at the hearing."

At that he laughed. "I don't know for months that Mac and Doc Driscoll are sleepin' together and in a matter of hours everyone knows what I did in that stupid hearing?"

She nodded with a chuckle. Sometimes Danny's urge to be a wise-ass was infuriating, but in this instance, she was proud of him. "It was good, what you did, the way you stood up for Mac."

"What else was I gonna do? He might not've done the right thing according to so-called departmental procedure, but we all know he didn't throw Dobson off that roof. Mac's a stand-up guy. And he would go to bat for any of us without thinkin' twice about it. Hell, he has. Even when I didn't deserve it, he's always had my back. I just hope I didn't make thing worse." He looked down at the table, his hands fidgeting with a napkin.

"You didn't. This whole thing is a lot bigger than any of us lowly CSI's, Dan. You told the truth, right? And that's all you could do." She reached across the booth and put her hand over his as a gesture of reassurance.

His eyes shot up at her in surprise. But his expression quickly softened and he offered a small smile. "You want something to drink?"

"No, I'm okay. But how 'bout a game of pool? Maybe clear our heads a bit?"

To say he was a little shocked by her invitation would be an understatement. Sure, things had been going well between them since her return from Montana, but she still seemed reticent to spend time alone with him outside of the professional arena. He guessed it was not because of disinterest on her part – she had returned to her flirtatious, bantering self after all – but she seemed as if she was not yet sure she trusted herself to let all the walls come down. However, he was not going to pass on any chance to help break down those walls even just a little bit more. "Sure. You can break."

"Don't do me any favours, Messer," she scoffed.

"There a challenge in there, Montana?"

"Whoever loses buys dinner and drinks after work one day next week. And I promise to show up, either way."

He raised his eyebrows. "That's not much of a challenge, Monroe. I'd be willing to throw the game if that's my consolation prize," he teased her.

"You can't afford me, so I'd play to win if I were you. Now rack 'em up."

Lindsay had been right, the game managed to help clear both of their minds and distract them from both the McEnroe case that was frustrating them to no end, and the situation with Mac that was just unfair in both their eyes. They even managed to share a few laughs.

"So, you make this, and where am I takin' ya?" Danny asked as Lindsay lined-up the game-winning shot.

"Surprise me." With unwavering confidence she pulled back – and to Danny's surprise, she missed the shot.

"Ooh, Montana. Not good. I got expensive taste," he kidded. He easily made the two shots he needed to win the game and looked at her with the cocky grin for which he was known.

She rolled her eyes. "So, where am _I_ taking _you_?"

"You know what? You can buy the pizza next time you come over to watch the game and we'll call it even. Might I'll even let you have a rematch. C'mon, I'll get ya a cab."

"I'm just going to jump on the subway and –"

"Tonight, you're cabbing it. Flack and I determined that the world's fallen off its axis so I'd feel better if you were in a cab. No arguments on this one, okay, Linds? It's been a long day."

She sighed. "Fine. Let's go."

They gathered up their stuff and headed out into the cool spring night.

Danny easily flagged down a cab for Lindsay. As he opened the door for her, she looked at him inquisitively. "Did the advocate really have to ask you to read the text _out loud_?"

He nodded sheepishly.

She shook her head with a laugh. "Wish I could've seen that. 'Night, Danny."

"Goodnight, Montana."

He closed the door for her, then tapped on the passenger side window. When the cabbie rolled the window down, Danny handed him some cash. "Get her home safely, huh? Keep the change."

Messer stood there on the sidewalk for a moment until the cab was out of sight, before he started his own journey back to the Lab, feeling suddenly invigorated. Maybe his second wind would allow him to figure out how John McEnroe had been in two places at once…


End file.
